Suffocation of the soul
by BrutalWarElf
Summary: Skwisgaar needs to learn to respect Toki's asexuality, but, being a borderline sex addict, it's hard to wrap his mind around the concept. Wrapping a leather belt around his own throat while jacking off proves a poor substitute.


Warnings: Sex addiction, Autoerotic Asphyxiation, Domestic Violence

Don't do the thing. As Charles correctly stated in Rehabklok: It's an embarrassing death. My dad the police officer has found people who died like this. Don't do it.

Toki's hand lazily scratching his scalp while they watched TV from his big white bed was both fantastic and a problem, as was the faint smell of sweat evaporating from his skin. He had been working out earlier, and despite the shower he had taken he was still steaming with the exertion. Skwisgaar reclined with his head in Toki's lap, more preoccupied with inhaling his scent and basking in the attention than with watching whatever was on. Toki tangled his fingers with Skwisgaar's, plucking his hand off his abdomen where Skwisgaar was rubbing his six-pack.

Skwisgaar enjoyed these moments of intimacy immensely, but while for him it was a natural prelude to sex, Toki did not share that sentiment, and there seemed to be no middle ground, no compromise that was acceptable for both of them. He almost felt bad for trying to shift Toki's boundaries whenever he allowed him near, but he felt so incomplete without being able to express his love and need for Toki in a sexual way.

They had been at this for six months, now. Half a year of holding hands, innocent touches and a love that ran even deeper than the highly flammable hatred they sometimes harboured for each other. Toki took care of him in every way he had always missed out on in the emotional sphere, and while that was fulfilling in its own way, their relationship still felt like it was lacking to Skwisgaar. Absolutely nothing had happened between them at Toki's request, not a single lousy hand-job or some dry humping, and it was driving Skwisgaar up the wall. He was so wildly attracted to Toki that he could hardly think around him.

Thankfully, Toki needed hugs and kisses like breathing. Lifting his head from Toki's lap he pursed his lips and made a soft sound to draw his attention. The ends of Toki's hair tickled his face and neck while they shifted awkwardly to kiss. Toki's thin lips quirked into a smile against his at the uncomfortable angle, and he drew away after a disappointingly short and chaste peck. The scratch of his Fu Manchu always compelled Skwisgaar to rub his face, but as soon as he dispelled the itch he sat up to face Toki properly.

'Dat kiss was dildos, let's tries dat agains, ja?'

Leaning in for a proper one, he followed Toki without breaking contact when he tried to back away, guiding him down onto the mattress.

'Skwisgaar – ' Toki protested.

'Shhh, it ams just a kiss.'

Toki hated it when he used tongue, so he tried to abstain from it, instead kissing him like people did on American TV, just their lips sliding against each other. Lowering his body onto Toki's gently, he trailed small pecks across his high cheekbones. Stormy eyes fluttered shut in delight, hands coming up to cup his face and stroke his shoulders. Skwisgaar inevitably felt his cock swelling slowly against Toki's leg, and god damn he needed something more than this bloodless making out. If only Toki would move his hands away from his shoulders, shove his them under his clothes or grab his ass or _something_.

Imagining Toki's strong hands kneading his ass, spreading his cheeks and fucking him open was a mistake. He had jacked off to that fantasy so often that it became nothing short of a Pavlov reaction. He unintentionally ground his erection into the hard muscle of Toki's leg, and he couldn't hold back a low moan of want.

Toki stiffened underneath him.

'You's makins me real uncomfortkables. I hopes I don'ts needs to tell you again.' Toki warned.

'Tokis, snälla… I wants you so bads.' This usually worked on everyone in the entire world. Why didn't Toki want him? What was he doing wrong? He buried his face in the crook of Toki's neck, kissing him a little more boldly than he should.

In the blink of an eye Toki shoved him away and grabbed him firmly by the throat. Skwisgaar gasped uselessly against the pressure on his windpipe. Toki bored his eyes into Skwisgaar's with a livid expression.

'Dis ams de last times I's tellins you: you gots to controls youself because I don'ts wants dis. Goes to your groupiesluts for sex. I'ms not havins it with you, not nows, not evers. Quits forcins youself on me.'

He should back down now, apologise. But that hand on his throat would be enough to undo him any time.

'Toki–' He reached out to touch him, to get closer to the heat emanating from his skin.

'You reallies don'ts get it. You's not even tryins to listen. Gets out.' Toki shoved him a second time.

'This ams my rooms, you gets out if I repulses you so much!' He couldn't fucking stand the rejection.

Toki scrambled off the bed, pain and anger warring with disbelief on his face. 'Dat's not what dis ams abouts!'

'Goes builds you fuckings airplanes or whatevers, just goes!' Skwisgaar threw one of Toki's boots across the room in the direction of the door.

'I don'ts believes whats a godsdamned unsensitives dick you ams beins rights now! Fucks you, Skwisgaar!' Toki screeched with balled fists.

'If onlies you woulds, we wouldn'ts be havingks dis problem!' The second boot hit Toki squarely on the thigh. He had aimed a little too well in his anger.

In retaliation, Toki grabbed the tall lamp that stood near the door and hurled it in his direction, the metal contorting upon impact with the floor.

'What ams you problem?! I tolds you from de starts! No ams no! No wonders you manage to sleeps with so many goils if dey consent means nothing to you!'

Toki gathered up his boots, the murder in his eyes mirroring the rage pounding in Skwisgaar's chest, and slammed the door.

The thing about an endless supply of women catering to his every whim was that it was both addictive and mind-numbing at the same time. His body was used to getting off at least twice a day, but the wiring of his brain was so fried that a regular fuck just didn't do it for him anymore. Even last night's orgy of five women, all with delightfully extreme physiques and wide skillsets managed to wring no more than a reluctant orgasm from him, his mind and his feelings an impediment to his senses.

To abate the sexual tension he couldn't allow himself to feel since he and Toki had gone back to platonically hating each other, however, he needed to keep this up. There was no time to call up any groupies before practice – it had to happen before practice or he would be in hell – and jacking off with nothing in particular to focus on was almost impossible these days. He would just end up thinking about Toki again.

Cursing himself for the lack of a PC with proper access to porn in his room, he got out his Dethphone to swipe through the nude selfies that he regularly asked his groupies to send him. The picture of a goth girl in revealing black pvc finally got a rise out of him, and he avoided examining the feeling too closely for fear it was more envy than desire for this particular girl that stirred his cock. That collar around her neck looked enticing; he could almost feel it around his own, strong hands giving it a sharp tug –

No, he couldn't let his mind go down that dusty road again. Swiping through the rest of the pictures with one hand while he stroked himself mechanically with the other he simply couldn't find anything that stimulated him. He needed something more, something vile, perverted or gross, something he hadn't seen a million times before to override the only thing he really wanted but couldn't have.

Stuck on the image of the girl with the collar – at least that had done something for him – he got an incredibly stupid idea. It was dangerous and embarrassing, but the prospect of doing something new and thrilling had him fully hard at last. Tossing his phone aside he hitched up his pants and made his way to his walk-in closet. He found what he was looking for on a clothes hanger containing the jeans he wore when visiting his mother. The plain leather belt had exactly the right type of buckle, the one with a rolling piece of metal where the prong touched the frame.

Impatiently dismissing the risks of accidentally killing himself, he was struck by the fatalistic thought that he might as well be dead if he couldn't even manage to get off anymore.

With shaking hands he looped the supple, worn leather around his neck, wrapping the loose end around his fist for better grip. His brain barraged him with a tidal wave of adrenalin as soon as the belt felt snug around his throat, and he revelled in the frantic pumping of his heart as he slowly choked off the flow of blood to his brain.

There was no stopping the fantasies once he shoved his hands in his pants to squeeze his dick through his underwear, now rock hard with the thrill of his irresponsible breath play. The buckle pinched his skin between the leather, the sharp sensation grounding the surreal constriction.

He couldn't do it anymore. The denial, the self-imposed limits on what he wanted and needed all fell away as oxygen deprivation lowered his inhibitions. He felt like screaming with the longing for strong fingers to replace the leather around his throat, for rough facial hair against his skin. He wanted to taste the heavy sweat he only ever got to smell anymore if he stood too close after a concert, to press himself against the unfairly cut body regardless of the consequences. He wanted to denote his obeisance in whatever manner was required of him, except it wasn't, and probably never would be.

Running his cock through his fist with slow, deliberate squeezes he couldn't shake the image of Toki burying himself into his ass, nor the undecided feeling that he was going to either come hard or pass out.

As the first thick spurts of semen his chest he had just enough sense left to let go of the end of the belt before he lost consciousness.

A fist pounding on his door eventually brought him back.

'Skwisgaar?!' Toki's voice sounded frantic. How long had he been there? 'I'ms kickins down de door if you don'ts opens it de fuck up!'

He tried telling Toki to go away, but a raw coughing fit interrupted his words.

'Waits a minutes – I wills be rights dere.' He croaked, ripping off his soiled shirt and buttoning up his pants.

He staggered against the door, fumbling with the lock before opening it onto Toki's concerned face. Toki pushed past him into his room, shutting the door behind them.

'It amen'ts likes you to miss bandspractice.' Toki scrutinized him, eyes travelling down to his throat.

He reached out to sweep Skwisgaar's hair aside and examine the skin with the calloused pads of his fingers. Skwisgaar tried to nudge the belt under his bed with his foot but Toki caught him, matching the marks on his throat with the wide leather.

'Whats weres you doins with dat, Skwisgaar?' Toki asked quietly.

'Jackingks off.' He answered truthfully, lowering his eyes in embarrassment.

'Wowee. You gots a real big problems, pals.' Toki sighed. 'This really amen'ts healthy. You gots to gets some help for dat. But,' he hesitated slightly, 'if you wants I wills be dere for you.'

'I woulds loves dat.' Skwisgaar mumbled, head bowed.

Toki tangled their fingers together, and Skwisgaar brought them up to his lips.

Forget sex, this was the side of Toki he really couldn't do without. They would have to make up the rest as they went along.


End file.
